Protecting Confession
by jinnabun
Summary: Mail Jeevas is hidden away in private school, to keep him from those who murdered his family. Mihael Keehl is sent to the same school, by the Witness Protection Agency. This is a story about how they cope with their loss, and about how they fall in love..
1. Angels?

_SUMMARY: Mail Jeevas is a famously wealthy boy, forced to go to Catholic school after witnessing the brutal murder of his entire world. Mihael Keehl is a relatively poor boy, forced into witness protection after a horrific night that destroyed everything he loved, he ends up at the same school. How will both boys, emotionally scarred as they are, cope, when they find themselves roommates, forced to lie to each other? How about when they fall in love?_

**Okay. A new one I guess. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking when I wrote this, but my friend told me to upload it, so I did. :D**

**This story was named by my friend, Laura. She's badass...but her naming skills leave a lot to be desired.**

**Now, my friend, Azahlea, told me to upload this, but be warned! In her own [exact] words: "Matt's a bit of a flamer, isn't he?"**

**Yes, Aza, hes he is. xD**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Matt or Mello. I wish I did. I also don't own Catholic School, but I do go to one... [kill me. xD]**

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_This sucks,_ I thought to myself, tugging at the navy uniform in disgust.

Why did I send myself here? Oh. Right. Good question.

Anybody got the answer? No? Didn't think so.

I am here, in this hell-hole, because my incredibly wealthy, newly deceased grandfather thought it would be great to write a clause in his will.

A clause stating that unless I graduated from the ultra-elite Quillish Wammy College Preparatory Boarding school, I get zip. Nilch. Nada. Zero dollaros.

Don't get the situation wrong, I'm not especially greedy, but my grandfather had been my sole living relative.

According to the judge, it was here, with full-paid tuition, or an orphanage.

I didn't think twice.

_I might've if I'd seen the uniform beforehand._

The boarding school was in upstate New York, not far from the city.

That didn't make it any better.

I was going into my sophomore year, stuck in the middle of nowhere, at _the_ preppiest school on the fucking planet.

I am _not_ preppy.

I glanced at myself in the full length mirror. Ew.

My dark hair hung down, almost to my shoulders in a shaggy mane. Threaded with copper highlights, it was probably my best feature…besides my eyes…

They were bright green, fluorescent, if you will. They were the type of orbs that made people stop and stare as I walked by.

Sometimes they unnerved people. I use that to my advantage.

They were beautiful, and I hate them. I hated the color green, not for it, but because my mother had loved it. She'd absolutely adored anything green, she'd been an amazing woman, yet now she was in England.

Six feet under.

Just like my father, my grandmother, my aunt, my baby sister, and now, my grandfather too.

I am the only Jeevas left, the sole heir to the fortune.

The fortune the thieves had been after when they'd killed my family. When they'd found out the money was all in the bank, they burned the house. I had gotten out alive, and had gone to America, to live with grandfather.

I am fifteen, and I had a net worth of well over several million dollars, and I hadn't even received my inheritance yet.

So no, I had no need to be greedy. I could care less about the cash, but…

Okay. I might as well come out and think it.

Mail Jeevas is _gay._

_I am gay._

And I'd heard all sorts of stories about what happened to gay boys in orphanages! So this had to be better than…_that._

…But then again…these uniforms were pretty torturous for a gay boy too.

They masked my…everything. The pants were too loose, the shirt too baggy…

I groaned, tearing off my uniform shirt and pulling on a striped hoodie, and a pair of black jeans.

Better.

Wait. Why couldn't I go to class dressed like this? It's not like they'd kick me out. When I graduate, the school could expect a _generous_ donation from my dead grandfather, via the stupid piece-of-shit paper that sent me here. Only after I graduated.

So they couldn't kick me out! If they did, they'd never get the funds for their new library, or theater, or field, or _whatever_ the fuck they planned to use the money for.

It's not like I'm a perfect student, well…I could be a perfect student, I've received the Jeevas brains, just…not the Jeevas motivation.

A.K.A. I don't give a flying fuck about anything, much less school.

Which was why I'd skipped my first day.

Technically, I should be in math class. Why bother?

There was no reason for me to go to class, it's not like anyone would care.

The school couldn't kick me out, and I highly doubt that the students would be able to make the connection between Mail Jeevas, the millionaire son of the Jeevas corporate empire, the boy who could bathe in money, and still have some left over to buy himself a mega-yacht, and Matt Jeevas, the averagely wealthy boy, at this elite boarding school.

That's who I am now. Matt. Average name, _slightly_ above average boy.

I know that I'm relatively attractive. My family was known for it, just like they were known for wealth, power…and red hair.

I caught myself as I fingered his brown locks sullenly. They weren't half as good looking as they were red. I'd forced them to leave _some_ red. Thus, the highlights.

They'd made me change my looks. They'd hushed up the will, the death, everything.

No one knows where I am. Like some fucked up witness protection program…just…without the witness part.

They only know that I'll come to take over the company when I turn eighteen.

Until then, my half-grand uncle would care for the company in my place.

And I was told to stay inconspicuous. Mail was told to be Matt.

It's not like I act rich.

I refused to give up my last name. It's all I had to hold on to.

It would just look like a coincidence anyway, me having the same last name as the Jeevas's.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Matt Jeevas! Open the door this instant, young man!" A voice called shrilly.

Great. Now I'd get in trouble for ditching. Whatever. I could always bribe her.

I flung open the door, trying to look as exasperated and powerful as I possibly could from my short stature, "Yes, Miss?"

Then I froze. The nun at the door [Oh, did I forget to mention? This isn't just a boarding school; this is a _Catholic_ boarding school. Joy.] was glaring, not at me, but at the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen.

I must've looked like an idiot, as I stared at him, slack-jawed.

He was _glowing_ he looked like fire and ice, skin like cream, hair like the sun. He was slight of build, and feminine looking, but he was so _obviously_ a male.

I wanted him.

I also wanted to know why he was being held by the ear.

"Uhm…Miss…I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but you do realize there is an ear attached to your hand, right?" I ventured.

And then I froze, as the most delicious sound in the world pealed around me.

He laughed.

The god-like boy had laughed at something I'd said.

I tried to make eye contact, but the second Miss bitchy-nun-lady started talking, he glared up at her, anger practically radiating in heat waves off of his skin.

Truthfully, it was slightly frightening. I tried to resist the urge to step back.

"Of course I realize that! This young hooligan already got in a fight with his old roommate, your room in the only single room left that is large enough to fit two people, so…blah blah blah…"

Of course my room was big. I'd paid a generous amount to make it so…but if the angel was staying in my room, I could care less about being left alone.

"Either way, he'll be staying with you. He's a scholarship student, but that makes him just as important as you, so treat him kindly. I'll leave you to settle in." With that, she flung him (by the ear) into the room, where he crashed into the empty bed.

"So, angel, who kicked you out, why would they want to, and how can I thank them?"

The beauty looked at me quizzically, and I blushed, realizing that I'd said that out loud.

Oops.

Whatever. I'll just play it cool.

"Helloooo?" I waved my hand in front of his face, "anybody home?"

"Oh. Uh…Right.." He stuttered, "Uhm…what?"

"Why were you so cruelly dislocated from your old room?"

"My roommate's a fucking dick."

"And…?"

"And he'somofobk"

"What?" He looked like a nervous kitten, adorable.

"I said he's a fucking homophobe, dick. Do you have a problem too?" The _fierce _kitten stood, clenching his fists.

I had to laugh. He was even smaller than me.

"Don't laugh at—"

I cut him off with a hand to his lips. I couldn't help it. He just looked so vulnerable, as though he thought I'd attack him.

He froze.

"Hun, no worries. I'm not exactly as straight as a rainbow either."

His eyes grew wide.

"You're…Gay?" He asked.

"What?" I asked, "you thought you were the only one? I'm sorry to disappoint you, but if you were the only gay boy on this planet, you'd find yourself feeling terribly alone."

"No! That's not what I—I mean, I was just---I didn't mean to---"

Freeze frame. This boy is fucking adorable when he blushes. Thought I'd point it out.

"Calm yourself. I was kidding."

"Oh."

"You can take that bed," I told him, pointing across the small dorm to the empty bed, "I've already made my bed, and I hate being close to the window."

Funny joke. My bed looked as though a zombie slept there for a week or two.

I might as well be considered a zombie; I was as active as one.

It was all about my bed, a bag of chips, a cigarette, and my x box.

Either way, I can't sleep near the window.

Then the sun wakes me up, and I can't sleep through class.

"Oh…Okay."

Why'd angel boy look so upset? He was living with me, Mail Jeevas.

I stifled the urge to [politely] inform him of the fact that I could buy him a fucking palace.

I could buy _him._

With a jolt, I realized that I didn't know his name. We were roommates, I thought to myself, indignantly. He didn't know mine. Well…he'd never know mine, but he'd at least know what to call me.

"Anywhosits, I'm Matt. Matt Jeevas. What's your name?"

"Mih—Mello."

"Mihmello?"

"Mello. Sorry." The boy…Mello…looked suddenly nervous, as he paused from making his bed, looking up at me with a slight glare, "Don't you dare make fun of it."

"Your name?"

"Yeah."

"Never!" I gasped, "It's adorable! Like…a marshmallow!"

He turned back to making his bed. Under his breath, I thought I heard him mumble something.

"What was that?"

"I said, shoot me."

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**Okay. Please review, and tell me if it's worth continuing.**

**If I do, the next chapter will probably be in Mello's POV. :D**

**-Uses Jedi Mind Trick To Fool You Into Reviewing-**


	2. Gunshots

**Okay. Chapter two.**

**Whooooosh. This was a weird chapter to write. As per usual, I'm not sure if it's good or not...but...azahlea assured me that this chapter was worth updating...so here we go!**

**DISCLAIMER: Nawt mineeee. 3 ... ... ...=/**

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_Marshmallow._

Motherfucker. Do I _look_ like a fucking marshmallow?

No. I don't.

I, Mihael Keehl, am both thin, and alarmingly badass.

I am absolutely not soft **or** chubby.

Granted, Matt doesn't know me. He probably thinks I'm all soft now because of that nun! It's not my fault. I hate it when people yell at me.

But _MARSHMALLOW?!_

Something must be wrong with the boy's head.

I'd finished making my bed, and unpacked my [small amount of] clothing.

I'd even tried straightening my hair.

Not that it wasn't already perfect.

And not that I own a hair straightener. I want to make that clear.

C'mon. Cut me some slack. I was bored, and the other boy had one on the counter in his _ensuite_ bathroom.

Flaming? Yes. How did I not notice it before?

The boy's cute, but his hair is in such disarray, it's hard to believe that he owns conditioner, let alone a straightener.

He looked at me for a good thirty seconds after I'd primped. _I thought I looked good. _He probably thought I looked weird.

Instead of commenting, though, he just lit himself a cigarette.

He _smokes. _

_A lot. _

At least he does it near the window, so it doesn't smog up our room, but then he's sitting at the end of my bed. Mine.

It's very annoying. I hate that smell.

The smell of smoke.

For the love of motherfucking Christ, that smell was one of the reasons I'm in this Godforsaken shit hole!

…Okay, I know, this place is hardly _God_forsaken.

Hehe. It's a Catholic school.

I, Mihael, made a 'funny.'

I snorted, which caused the red-head to look up at me in interest. I must have looked like a lunatic.

Standing in the middle of the room, staring off into space, laughing to myself.

Matt must think I'm psychotic. He was staring at me like he did, that's for sure.

"You look psychotic," he grinned, which, of course, made me blush, "But it's cute. I'm going to go take a shower, eh, now that I've woken up? Then we'll explore the hallways or something."

…He'd been awake for _hours._

Strange boy.

"You're taking a shower?" I must seem like an idiot, but, frankly, my mind couldn't compute it. The term _shower_ and this boy wouldn't fit together. Sure he didn't look _dirty_ but I'd already marked him as a slob. Maybe I'd misjudged him.

I usually was good at making accurate impressions of people.

He did, in fact, look at me like I was a lunatic.

"Yeah." He stated, pronouncing slowly, as if I was an idiot, "I mean…you're welcome to join me…but…then you'd have to re-straighten your hair, which looks _good_ the way it is, and I don't think---"

With that, he gasped, turned red, and fled into the bathroom, at which point I heard a thud, the sound of running water, and a muffled 'you're so stupid!'

At least he liked my hair.

Once he'd been in the shower for a few minutes, I hauled myself off of my bed, and started rifling through my closet.

I never really knew what to wear. This school seemed strict, but it's not like they could kick me out. I was in the fucking witness protection program. They were stuck with me.

I was having a good day, as far as self confidence went, and when I felt my hand graze against leather, I grinned.

Why not?

If we were leaving the room, I might as well put on a show.

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I laughed at his expression when he exited the bathroom, after a _long_ shower.

I'd outdone myself.

When he'd exited said still-steamy room of bathing, I was fully reclined on my bed, popping hershey's kisses like they were pills, in my change of clothes.

Which seemed to be what had grabbed his attention.

I'd put on a v-neck black shirt, matched with leather pants and a thin black sweater, as well as tight, knee-length black faux army boots with silver buckles, and a black belt with silver studs.

When paired with my black gloves, which _also_ had silver buckles, I looked quite coordinated, in a badass way.

Matt blinked.

I licked my lips.

He blushed.

"Uhm. Yeah…I'll be ready soon."

I leaned back, prepared to wait.

It didn't take him long, before he strode out, towel around his waist, hair dry.

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The boy had to have a messed up internal clock.

'_I'll be ready soon.' _Were those not his exact words?

He'd grabbed his clothes from his closet, and went back into the bathroom.

30 minutes ago.

Heh. Maybe something ate him.

I'd moved on from Hershey kisses to a Cadbury bar, when he _finally_ emerged.

Looking hot.

I had to remind myself to blink. And breath. _Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…_

How he'd managed to pull off what he was wearing, I'd never know.

Those had to be _the_ tightest black skinny jeans I'd ever seen. He he managed to zip them over his…

I'd probably never know.

His hair was a wild halo around him.

And he has aviator goggles on. Big black and brown ones, that matched his brown and white striped shirt.

"I like you in stripes." I gulped. I didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Um. Thanks." He blushed, "Ready to go?"

"Oh. Yeah. Do you know where anything is?"

"No." he mumbled, "Classes started today, and I didn't bother going, and I was unpacking all last week."

"Okay. First, can we go outside? They said there was a shooting range."

"You know how to shoot a gun?"

"Yeah. My dad taught me. It's good for releasing stress. I thought it was strange that they'd have a range at a Catholic School, but apparently they consider it sport."

"Okay. Let's go check it out, marshmallow. I've got nothing better to do." He laughed, opening our door, and motioning for me to leave first.

"Why do you call me that?"

"It's cute." He laughed, I liked the sound, "Why? Does it bother you? I can stop…?"

"No. It's fine." _Why did I say that?_ Idiot! I scolded myself, mentally, now he'll never stop!

"Okay then. Off we go!"

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The 'captain' of the riflery 'team' was letting me try out a gun, after I'd assured him I knew how to use it, to see if I was any good.

So I'd thrown on some goggles and my earmuffs, and left Matt by the gate. He'd said he'd watch.

I leveled the gun at the target, and suddenly I could hear my dad's voice in my head.

"_Focus. Close one eye. Take a deep breath. It's only a gun. You're the one that controls it. You're the threat. Everyone should fear you, not the gun. Breath. Let it out. Check your aim, and brace yourself for the kick of the gun._

_You'll need to know this for your future._

_Our family is known for our accuracy.."_

He pulled the trigger.

Bull's-eye.

"_You'll do good in the business. The Mafia could use you._

_Just keep cool."_

Shoot.

Bull's-eye.

"_Breath. You've got this."_

Aim. Fire.

The little hole in the piece of paper was practically the same size as it was after the first shot. His aim was _that_ good.

"_Nice job. You're just like me when I was younger. Just like your brother was, a few years back."_

Shoot.

This time, the bullet went awry, it hit the clothespin, that was holding his target, which exploded in a shower of wood, and the piece of paper flapped woefully towards the ground.

He wasn't perfect.

And it was always the most important shot that he missed.

He stifled a sigh, and put down the gun, clicking the safety.

He missed his family.

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**Poor him. =/**

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